


Supernatural: the HBO Version

by there_must_be_a_lock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Rewrite, Episode: s03e08 A Very Supernatural Christmas, Episode: s04e09 I Know What You Did Last Summer, Episode: s04e18 The Monster at the End of This Book, Episode: s05e04 The End, Episode: s05e08 Changing Channels, Episode: s06e09 Clap Your Hands If You Believe, Episode: s07e02 Hello Cruel World, Episode: s09e08 Rock and a Hard Place, Hallucination Lucifer (Supernatural) | Hallucifer, If Supernatural (TV) Were on HBO, Multi, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: The following program is rated TV-MA.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 57
Kudos: 42





	1. Rock and a Hard Place

DEAN: Sex has always felt — I don't know — fuckin’ great, honestly. Even the messy bits, right? Like, you’re covered in their sweat, you can smell ‘em all over you… just feels _human_. But, uh... Sometimes, it just makes you feel bad, too. You're shitfaced. You get your freak on. Then, it's the whole _morning_ thing. “I’ve had my fingers inside you but now we have nothing to say to each other.” And then, "adios.” Always the "adios."

[DEAN looks wistful.]

DEAN: But what's the big deal, right? I mean, sure, there’s the buildup… touching. Feeling each other. Figurin’ out what makes someone tick. When you pull a chick’s hair and you can feel her just kinda shudder, or a guy throws you up against a wall and it’s _exactly_ the kinda rough that gets you going, oh _man_ , it’s just…

[SAM clears his throat uncomfortably]

DEAN: And seeing ‘em naked, fuck, that’s always… not just seeing what everybody’s workin’ with, y’know? But seeing those spots that you just kinda want to bite… the muscles in a guy’s back, fuck. Or… there was this chick, once, looked like the buttoned-up type, right? And then I start taking off her clothes and she’s got ink like you wouldn’t believe, all over her back, her hips, her stomach, and she had this little hand-poked tattoo that said “bite me” right above her —

[SAM clears his throat again.]

DEAN: Anyway. But. Then it’s just the two of you, and you’re naked, moving together, startin’ to get _desperate_ for it, y’know? And then you finally… fuckin’ _go_ for it, and all you can hear is the way the other person moans when you get the right angle, when you hit that sweet spot and just fuckin’... grind into it over and over and _over_ again. It’s like the rest of the fuckin’ world just disappears. Like the only thing in the world that matters is this other person and their body and makin’ em feel good… until you’re both cursing, begging for more, feeling the way it builds and builds until you just lose control and this goddamn animal takes over, and it feels so good you can’t fuckin’ take it and…

[DEAN makes a exploding noise. TAMMY crushes her paper with the written verse in her lap.]

SAM: Dean, could you do me a favor and shut the hell up?

DEAN: Eat me, Mr. “Don’t Mind The Spilled Wax.”


	2. Clap Your Hands If You Believe

[Close-up of Sam’s hands wrapping a belt around Sparrow’s crossed wrists and pulling it tight. She’s laid out on one of the motel beds, naked, with her arms over her head and a scarf over her eyes.]

SAM: Keep your hands right there for me. Got it?

SPARROW: Yes.

SAM: Excuse me?

SPARROW: Yes, sir.

[Sam is shirtless, standing over her and smirking. He rummages around in a duffel bag and pulls out a lighter and a red wax candle. He lights the candle and watches intently as the wax starts to melt. When there’s enough, he holds it over his own arm. The first few drops hit the floor; Sam glances down and ignores it, smiling with obvious enjoyment as the next drops hit the inside of his wrist. He admires the patch of wax on his skin and turns back to Sparrow.]

SAM: You’re going to hold very still for me.

SPARROW: Yes, sir.

[Dean opens the door to the motel room, shouts, and very quickly closes it again. Sam flinches at the interruption and wax spills onto his fingers.]

SAM: Dean! Uh… hang on.

DEAN shouting through the door: Was that my goddamn belt?

[Sam looks reluctantly from the door, to the tied-up girl, and back to the candle in his hand, which is steadily dripping.]

SPARROW: Dean? Sam, they brought your brother back!

SAM: Kinda wish they could’ve held onto him for another hour or two…

[Sam blows out the candle and takes off her blindfold.]

[In the hallway, Dean is waiting, looking _pissed_. Sam opens the door. Behind him, Sparrow is putting on her shirt.]

DEAN: What the hell?

SPARROW: Okay. I so totally understand that you need time as a family. But it’s just—what were they like?

DEAN: They were grabby, incandescent douchebags. Good night.

SPARROW: Too soon… ? Okay.

[Sparrow leaves. Dean walks in, looking around warily.]

SAM: Don’t mind the, um, spilled wax.

DEAN: What were you even doing with the — nope, never mind. Never gonna un-see that. Asshole.

SAM: Here, your belt…

DEAN: You know what? Keep it.

SAM: You’re upset.

DEAN: You’re goddamn right I’m fuckin’ upset! I was _abducted_ and you were hangin’ out playing Fifty Shades.

SAM: Hey! Low blow. Fuck Fifty Shades, dude.

DEAN: I was abducted by aliens!

SAM: I was looking into it.

DEAN: If by “it” you mean “patchouli smellin’ pussy.”


	3. The End

Castiel sits up, sniffing loudly, and wipes his nose. He leans back down and does a second line off the naked asscheek of a woman lying on the rug in front of him. The camera pans in a circle and we see one couple having sex on the couch, then a threesome in progress on some floor cushions. Then we see Dean standing at the open door. 

DEAN: What in the almighty motherfuckin’ shitfire, Cas? 

[Castiel jumps up (completely naked) and goes over to him.]

CASTIEL: Dean! I didn’t think you were coming today, sorry, I would’ve waited. 

[He kisses Dean on the mouth, very aggressively, and Dean looks shell-shocked when he pulls away.]

DEAN: Wait, what are you – you mind tellin’ me what’s up? How fucked up _are_ you right now?

CASTIEL: Uh. The normal amount? 

DEAN: So, what, it’s _normal_ for you to go around stickin’ your tongue down dudes’ throats? Are you… _bisexual_ now?

CASTIEL: First of all, you know I don’t like labels. Second of all, didn’t hear you complaining last week when I stuck my tongue down your – 

DEAN: _Nope_. Nope, just – no. What in the ever-loving fuck _happened_ to you? 

CASTIEL: Life. 

[Castiel laughs and wipes his nose again, and then he squints at Dean, re-focusing.]

CASTIEL: Whoa. Strange. 

DEAN: Strange isn’t the fuckin’ word I’d use. Can you put on some goddamn pants, Cas?

CASTIEL: You… are not you. Not _now_ you, anyway. 

DEAN: No! Yeah. Yes, exactly. 

[A loud moan is audible from inside the room. Dean glances in and looks very surprised.]

DEAN: Look, Cas, we gotta talk. Away from… whatever _that_ is. 

CASTIEL: What year are you from?

DEAN: 2009. 

CASTIEL: Who did this to you? Is it Zachariah?

DEAN: Yes. 

CASTIEL: Interesting. 

DEAN: Yeah, fuckin’ fascinating. Now can you put some fuckin’ clothes on and strap on your fuckin’ wings and take a break from your own private Burning Man to get me the fuck back to the right page on the calendar? 

CASTIEL: I wish I could help, I really do, but… no dice. Dean, I’m not an angel any more. 

DEAN: Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ _kidding_ me. 

CASTIEL: Nope. No wings available at the moment. I can offer you cocaine and a blowjob, though. 

DEAN: What?

CASTIEL: Welcome to the end, baby. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out, right? There’s this thing I do with my fingers that you’ll be very fond of in about four years. 


	4. I Know What You Did Last Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS** for this chapter: references to suicidal thoughts, choking as foreplay, and allusions to some very rough sex.

DEAN: Why do you trust her so much? I'm not trying to pick a fight here. I mean, I really want to understand. 

SAM: Because she saved my life. I was kind of a fucking wreck after you… you know. 

**Six Months Earlier**

[Sam is sitting on the floor of a motel room bathroom, slumped against the wall, blackout drunk. The knuckles of his right hand are sliced up, bleeding freely, and the mirror is shattered; there are pieces of it all over the floor. Sam is holding a shard of the mirror, turning it over in his hands and staring at it.] 

[There’s a noise at the door of the motel room: a metallic scratch, somebody picking the lock. Sam doesn’t seem to notice until the door opens. Then he staggers to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall.]

[When he comes through the doorway, we see a man and a woman. Sam squints at them. The woman is twirling Ruby’s knife, while the man looks around at the messy room.] 

WOMAN: Thanks for keeping this warm for me, Sam.

SAM: Ruby?

RUBY: Lilith gave me one last chance to take it topside. And all I had to do was find you and kill you. Glad I got here before you went ahead and did it yourself. 

[Sam shrugs.]

SAM: Fucking… do it then. 

[Ruby stabs the other demon instead.]

RUBY: We gotta go. Now! 

[Sam blinks at her, frowning. She grabs his keys from the table and gets an arm around him, supporting him as she pulls him to the door.]

**Present Day**

DEAN: Fuck, Sammy. 

SAM: Don’t. 

DEAN: How bad did it get? 

SAM: Just… don’t. Point is, Ruby wanted to go after Lilith. 

**Six Months Earlier**

[Sam is trying to exorcise a demon tied to a chair in a devil's trap, but can't. Some black smoke comes out of the demon's mouth, but then it goes back in. Sam holds his head in pain. As the demon begins to laugh, Ruby kills him with her knife.]

RUBY: Just give it time, Sam. It'll get better.

SAM: I’ve been practicing for a fuckin’ week. I’m not getting any better. 

RUBY: I'm not talking about pulling demons. I know losing Dean was —

[Sam turns on her and shoves her away.]

SAM: Don’t fucking talk about Dean. 

RUBY: I used to be human. I still remember what it feels like to lose someone.

[He’s furious, getting in her face and making her back away slowly.]

SAM: I don't want to talk about it. Fuck off with that greeting-card, time-heals bullshit. 

RUBY: Sam… you're not alone.

[Ruby touches his shoulder, and when he doesn’t push her away, she kisses him. He shoves her back against the wall.]

SAM: What the fuck are you doing? 

[She grabs him by the belt loops and tries to pull him against her.]

RUBY: What, don’t you like the new body? I thought it was a nice one… is it because I’m a demon? 

SAM: For starters. 

[She kisses him again. Sam grabs her by the throat and pins her against the wall. He’s not cutting off her air yet, but she can’t move. She’s smiling.]

RUBY: Go on. 

[Sam squeezes her throat. Ruby moans, and Sam closes his eyes, trying to make himself pull away.]

SAM: This is fucked up. 

RUBY: _You’re_ pretty fucked up. 

[She goes for his belt and gets a hand inside his jeans, stroking him as she talks.]

RUBY: Yeah, you don’t seem to mind. There are some benefits to this whole demon thing, you know… you could do _anything_ to me. You can hurt me however you want. Not like it’s gonna kill me if you choke me too hard. 

[Sam grabs a handful of her hair, tilting her head back at a painful angle.] 

SAM: _Don’t._ [He pulls her hair sharply.] _Push_. [Pulls again.] _Me_. [He yanks her head to the side and bites her neck.]

RUBY: Harder. 

[Sam makes up his mind. He kisses her roughly, and they start undressing each other, fast and urgent. He lifts her easily, her legs wrapped around his waist, and shoves her against the wall carelessly, so that her head hits the wood with a loud _crack_. She looks like she’s about to say something, but Sam wraps a hand around her throat again, cutting her off.] 

SAM: Let’s see how much that new body of yours can take.


	5. A Very Supernatural Christmas

[A number of bowls and a knife are set out on the kitchen table. Sam and Dean are tied up in chairs, back to back. Mr. Carrigan walks to Sam carrying a knife and a bowl. He holds the bowl under Sam’s arm and cuts him, collecting his blood in the bowl.]

SAM: Don’t!

[Mrs Carrigan takes the knife and bowl.]

MRS CARRIGAN: This might pinch a bit, dear.

[She comes closer to Dean and slices his arm.]

DEAN: Fuck you, you dusty old bitch.

MRS CARRIGAN: Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing? “Fudge.”

DEAN: Oh yeah? Well you can take your swear jar and stuff it up your gaping asshole, you mouth-breathing thundercunt.

MR CARRIGAN: Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick!

DEAN: You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, chuckle-fucking dickweasel. Your wife here looks like Betty Crocker fucked a Christmas elf and shat out some sort of fuckwitted Joan Cleaver wannabe, anyone ever tell you that?

MR CARRIGAN: Listen, pal, back in the day, we were worshiped by millions.

DEAN: Well, the times they are a-fuckin’ changing, you cum-gargling shitgibbon.

MR CARRIGAN: You boys have no idea how lucky you are. There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are.

[Mr. Carrigan picks up a pair of pliers and stands in front of Sam.]

SAM: What do you think you’re doing with those?

DEAN: Stay away from my brother, dickcheese. Jesus titty-fucking Christ, when I get out of here I’m going to kick your crusty ass so hard your vertebrae are gonna -

[Mrs Carrigan slices Dean’s other arm and he groans in pain, while Mr Carrigan grabs Sam’s hand.]

SAM: Don’t!

DEAN: Merry fuckin’ Christmas to us. I swear, I will fuck you up, you pathetic little shitstained cocktrumpet, and —

[Mr Carrigan pulls the nail off Sam’s index finger and Sam screams.]

MR CARRIGAN: Oh, we got a winner!

[He holds up the nail and grins.]

SAM: Let’s see how you like it when I shove it up your dick, you dog-felching cunt-faced twatwaffle.

DEAN: Nice one.


	6. Changing Channels

[Exterior shot of a fancy New York City restaurant. Sam and Dean are wearing pastel-colored button-downs and white slacks. They’re sitting at a table with two well-dressed women, eating brunch and drinking mimosas.] 

BRUNETTE WOMAN: It was like having a carnival ride in my vagina! 

SAM (looking reluctant and pained): Everything’s got artificial intelligence these days. What ever happened to a good old-fashioned dildo?

BLONDE WOMAN: You will never _believe_ what Mr. Thick did this time. 

[Everyone looks expectantly at Dean.] 

DEAN: Girl, _dump him_. 

[Castiel comes barging into the restaurant.]

CASTIEL: I don't have much time. Listen to me. This thing is much more powerful than it should be.

DEAN: What thing—the Trickster?

CASTIEL: If it is a trickster.

[The Trickster appears next to their table. He gestures at Castiel, who vanishes in a burst of static.] 

DEAN: Enough. I am done with this “play your roles” bullshit. What’s your angle? 

TRICKSTER: Play your roles out there. Sam starring as Lucifer, Dean starring as Michael... 

SAM: You want us to say yes to those motherfuckers?

TRICKSTER: Fuck yeah. Let's blow this shit up. 

SAM: And if we don't?

TRICKSTER: Then you'll stay here in TV Land. Forever. Three hundred channels and nothing's on.

[The Trickster snaps his fingers. The scene changes. Sam and Dean are wearing robes in a high fantasy style, with matching coronets, standing in the doorway of what appears to be a luxurious brothel. A scantily-clad woman rushes toward them, smiling.] 

WOMAN: Prince Samiel! Prince Deanys! It is an honor, as always. What is your pleasure this evening? Would you prefer to share again, or -- 

DEAN: You gotta be fucking kidding me. 

WOMAN: I beg your pardon. I can, of course, have a selection of our most talented men and women brought out for your inspection. 

[Sam and Dean both make a face. Another man enters the room, looking around furtively.] 

WOMAN: Lord Barys?

LORD BARYS: Princes. This way! You must hurry. 

[They follow, and the man opens another door, leading them into the middle of an orgy. He begins to walk through the room. Sam and Dean are very distracted by the naked people around them.]

LORD BARYS: A messenger arrived this morning from the Vale of Poppies. Your aunt has discovered your secret, my princes, and if you do not flee, she will tell Daemalarys Naelaleos that you slew your half-brother and stole the Sword of Irran from the Great Crypt. 

DEAN: Fucking _what_ now? 

SAM: Hey. Check out sweet tooth over there. 

[A naked man is lounging in a velvet chaise, watching the orgy and eating a bowl of candy. Dean looks around and grabs a fancy chair, snapping one of its legs off to create a stake. He stabs the fat man in the chest with it. None of the orgy participants notice except for Lord Barys, who laughs and morphs into the Trickster.] 

TRICKSTER: You've got the wrong guy, idiots.

DEAN: Did we?

[Sam stakes the Trickster from behind. He falls over. A burst of static. The brothel scene disappears, and they’re back in the warehouse. The Trickster is still down with the stake through him. They brush themselves off and head for the door.] 

Dean: I’m worried about Cas. Where the fuck is he?

[As Dean pushes the door open, the scene changes. He walks out into the middle of an old-timey Western street, and a woman shoves him.]

WOMAN: And _stay_ out! 

[Dean looks back at her, then out at the street. A large horse is tethered to a post in front of the saloon.]

DEAN: Sam? 

[The horse neighs. Dean heads back into the saloon, but before he can open the door, a very large, very angry-looking man bursts through it.] 

MAN: What did my sister tell you, you goddamn moron? Get the fuck out of Skullwood! You and your mangy-ass horse! 

[Dean looks dubiously at the horse. It neighs and stomps a hoof. Dean looks around again.] 

DEAN: Sammy? Where the fuck did you go? 

[The horse headbutts Dean angrily.]

DEAN: Oh, fuck. I don’t think we killed the Trickster.


	7. Hello Cruel World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ADDITIONAL WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: psychological torture, discussion of suicide, and very vague allusions to past sexual assault.

SAM: Okay, if this is some dream and you got power over it, why don’t you just fucking end it?

HALLUCIFER: End it? This? You not knowing what’s real, the paint slowly peeling off your walls… come on, man, this is the sweet spot! Why would _I_ end it? It’s up to you. It ends when you can’t take it anymore.

[Hallucifer changes to Sam circa 2009, with pure black eyes and blood dripping down his chin.] 

HALLUCIFER: Let’s be real, you’ve known for years that the world would be better off without you. You’ve been fucked up as long as you’ve been alive. You’ve been fucking up _other_ peoples lives since you were born. 

[Sam goes to rub his eyes, but his hands are covered in blood.]

HALLUCIFER: Fuck, you’ve gotten so close. Why didn’t you just go through with it? 

[Hallucifer morphs into Sam circa 2008, after Dean died: bloody knuckles, unfocused eyes, a shard of mirrored glass in his hand.]

HALLUCIFER: _I’m_ not going to end anything. What’ll it be, Sam?

SAM: No. I won’t. 

HALLUCIFER: You _will_. It’s just a matter of time. Didn’t take you long to break in the Cage, did it? 

SAM: Fuck off. 

HALLUCIFER: Best part is, I don’t even need to do much. Doesn’t get more fucked up than what’s already up here in your memories. Instant replay on all your greatest hits should do the trick. Let’s dig through the DVD collection and make some popcorn, shall we? Or we could watch some videos of the Cage. Warning, some material may not be suitable for younger viewers… 

[Sam turns away, takes a deep breath, and turns back to find Bobby looking at him, concerned.] 

BOBBY: Man, you better not let your brother see you like this. 

SAM: I know. I’ll… I’m fine. 

BOBBY: I mean, he’s a fuckin’ hair away from locking you up as it is, you know? 

SAM: What? 

BOBBY: Between you and me, Sam, he’s been lookin’ for a reason for… well, a long time now. Let’s be real, you haven’t exactly been the fuckin’ picture of sanity, right? But if he hears you talking about offin’ yourself – 

SAM: You’re not… you’re not Bobby. 

BOBBY: Wanna bet? Go ahead. Try me. [He passes Sam a knife.] Better yet, just do it. Get it over with already. Save us all some time. 

[Sam shakes his head. Bobby looks at Sam’s guns on the table.]

BOBBY: Unless a gun would be easier. That’s why you’re cleaning ‘em, right?

SAM: Shut the fuck up. I said _shut up_!

[The first Bobby turns back into Hallucifer, still holding the knife, and the real Bobby walks into the kitchen.]

BOBBY: Hey, Sam. You, uh, having a little bag lady moment?

SAM: Sorry. Shit, I’m – fuck. Sorry. 

[Bobby gets beers out of the refrigerator and hands one to Sam.]

SAM: Thanks.

[They each take a drink.]

BOBBY: You beat the Devil before, kid.

SAM: It’s kinda different.

BOBBY: Not really. You’ll get a handle on this too. You will.

[Sam sees Hallucifer standing behind Bobby, holding the knife.]

BOBBY: You’re not in Hell anymore. You’re here, with us.

[Sam sees Lucifer slowly carving strips of skin off Bobby’s face.]

BOBBY: You hear me, Sam?

[Sam nods. Hallucifer cuts Bobby open. When Sam lifts his beer again, he sees that his hand is covered in blood.]

SAM: Yeah, I hear you, Bobby.


	8. The Monster At The End Of This Book

[We pan across a motel bed strewn with copies of the book series. Dean is reclining on the bed, flipping through a book and frowning. Sam is seated by the window with his laptop.]

DEAN: This is fuckin’ batshit. How’s this guy know all this stuff? 

SAM: You got me.

DEAN: Everything is in here. I mean fucking everything. And he’s not fuckin’ skimping on the details, y’know? This is some shit that _nobody_ else needs to know. From the racist truck to – to me fucking that dude in Boise, the one who wanted me to call him Daddy and – 

SAM: _Nope_. Do not finish that fucking sentence. Hearing it once was one time too many. 

DEAN: Hey, don’t bitch at me. I started skimming through that one over there and had to fuckin’ toss it when he started talking about you and Madison. 

SAM: I really don’t want to know. 

DEAN: How come we haven’t heard of these before?

SAM: They’re pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in ‘05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And the last one – “No Rest For The Wicked” – ends with you going to hell.

[He turns the laptop to Dean. It’s open to the publishing company’s website.]

DEAN: I reiterate: fucking insane… check it out. There’s actually fans. There’s not many of them, but still. Did you read this bullshit?

SAM: Yeah.

DEAN: Although for fans, they sure are cunts about the writing. Listen to this – Simpatico says “the demon story line is a steaming pile of shit.” Yeah, well, fuck you, Simpatico. We lived it.

SAM: Keep on reading. It gets better.

DEAN: “There wasn’t any reason to make Dean bi. Edlund is just trying to keep the pussy-ass SJWs happy, and it’s ruining the fucking series. Who wants to read about a –” Oh. Wow. 

SAM: Yeah, you should probably just skip the rest of that one. Asshole. 

DEAN: There are “Sam girls” and “Dean girls” and – what’s a “slash fan”?

SAM: As in… Sam-slash-Dean. Together.

DEAN: Like, together together?

SAM: Yeah.

DEAN: They do know we’re fuckin’ _brothers_ , right?

SAM: Doesn’t seem to matter.

DEAN: Oh, come on. That… that’s just fucked up. We gotta find Carver fuckin’ Edlund. 

[He shuts the laptop in disgust.]

SAM: Yeah, that might not be so easy. No tax records, no known address. Looks like “Carver Edlund” is a pen name.

DEAN: Somebody’s gotta know where the little shitweasel is.


	9. Abandon All Hope...

DEAN: Look…you can’t come with.

SAM: Dean.

DEAN: I go against Satan and fuck it up, we’ve lost a game piece. That we can take. But if you’re there, then we are handing the devil’s vessel right over to him. That’s not smart.

SAM: Since when have we ever done anything smart? If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it together.

[Dean and Sam look at each other for a long moment.]

DEAN: Okay. But it’s a stupid fuckin’ idea.

[Dean looks past Sam, attention caught by Jo. Sam looks too.]

SAM: Boy, talk about stupid fuckin’ ideas.

DEAN: You’re absolutely right. But also, fuck you. 

[Dean gets up and goes over to the refrigerator, where Jo is rummaging. She turns around and catches Dean staring at her ass.]

JO: Hey.

DEAN: So. Dangerous mission tomorrow. Guess it’s time to eat, drink, and… make merry.

JO: Are you giving me the last-night-on-earth speech?

DEAN: What? No. But… if I was… would that work?

JO: Depends on the pitch, I guess. Let me hear it. 

DEAN: Pitch? 

JO: Yeah, your sales pitch. What’s your style, Dean?

[Jo leans in close, looking up at him through her lashes. Dean looks equal parts flustered and turned on.]

JO: You sorta strike me as the gentle, giving type. Take it nice and easy, kiss me all over… or are you gonna hold me down and tease me until I’m begging?

DEAN: Hey, if that’s what you’re into… 

JO: Oh, let me guess. You can go all night. Make me scream. Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk right in the morning. You’re gonna promise to make all my dirty fantasies come true… 

[Jo is close enough to kiss him, now, and Dean looks like he’s about to go for it until she continues.]

JO: …by which you mean you’ll smack my ass a couple times, not even enough to bruise, and give me a couple cheesy lines you pulled from a porno. “Mm, you like that, baby?” Or… “Yeah, take that big hard cock.” Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve heard it from one dumbfuck after another over the years. 

DEAN: C’mon, give me a little credit here.

[She rolls her eyes and steps back. Dean tries to play it cool.] 

JO: Sweetheart, if this is our last night on earth, then I’m going to spend it with a little thing I call self-respect… and my vibrator. 

DEAN: Hey, if you change your mind… 

JO: In your fucking dreams, Dean. 

[Dean watches her go with a starstruck expression.]

DEAN: Well…. fuck. 


	10. Tall Tales

DEAN: How's research going?

SAM: Slow. You know how it would go a lot fucking faster? If my goddamn motherfucking computer wasn’t permanently frozen on an image of two girls getting _fucked with_ _tentacles_. You know what? Maybe you should just fuck off for a while.

DEAN: Hey, I'd love to. That's a great idea. Unfortunately, my car's all fucked to hell. 

SAM: Dean, I told you, I have nothing to do wi—

[He's cut off by a knock on the door. Sam looks through the peephole and then back at Dean, then opens the door.]

SAM: Hey, Bobby.

BOBBY: Boys. It's good to see you again so soon.

SAM: Yeah, uh, thanks for coming. Come on in.

DEAN: Thank god you're here.

BOBBY: So um, what didn't you want to talk to me on the phone about?

SAM: It's this job we're working. We weren't sure you'd believe us.

BOBBY: Well, I can believe a lot. Why don't you begin at the beginning?

SAM: Yeah, um, all right. 

[Sam gestures to the bed; Bobby sits down.]

SAM: We pretexted as reporters from the local paper. 

**FLASHBACK - BAR**

JEN: Do you know about Crawford Hall?

SAM: No, I don't, actually.

CURTIS: It's a bunch of bullshit. 

JEN: Thirty years ago, this girl was fucking some professor. He broke it off, she jumped out the window and killed herself. 

SAM: You know her name?

JEN: No. But they say she jumped, and now she haunts the building. 

CURTIS: Bullshit.

JEN: Fuck you. 

SAM: Thanks a lot guys. Excuse me.

[He looks around the bar, frowning, but doesn’t see Dean.] 

[Outside the bar. Sam comes out of the door, looking worried. There’s a guy smoking a cigarette outside who points him toward an alleyway. Sam walks over to it.] 

SAM: Dean? 

[We hear a muffled “Fuck!” from the alleyway, and Sam runs in, drawing his gun. We see a close-up of Dean, tilting his head back against the wall like he’s in pain.]

SAM: Dean! What—? 

[Dean takes a drag off a cigarette, looking down. The camera pans out to reveal that Dean’s getting a very enthusiastic blowjob from a guy in a tight pink shirt. Sam stops short and turns his back.] 

SAM: Fuck! Dude! My fucking eyes! 

[The guy is about to stand up, but Dean pushes him back down.]

DEAN: Nobody likes a cockblock, Sam. 

SAM: I got a tip, we should go check out the professor’s office. 

[There’s a gagging sound. Dean grunts, leaning back again as he blows out smoke.]

DEAN: Yeah, hang on, just — 

SAM: Dean. Put your fucking dick away before you get arrested again. 

[The scene freeze-frames as Dean’s voice (present-day) cuts in.]

**HOTEL ROOM – DAY**

DEAN: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the fuck on.

SAM: What?

DEAN: Come on, dude, that's not how it went. 

SAM: No? So you _weren’t_ throat-fucking some random twink in an alley?

DEAN: Yeah, maybe that. But I wasn’t smoking a _cigarette_. I only smoke when I’m wasted, you know that. And I sure as fuck didn’t grab him by the hair and tell him to keep going. Believe me, the sight of your face is the world’s biggest goddamn boner-kill. 

SAM: Then how _did_ it go? 

DEAN: (to BOBBY, taking up the story) He was a model. We got to talking, we went out to smoke a joint...

**FLASHBACK – BAR**

[The feel of the scene is very different – we see Dean against the brick wall again, but this time a gorgeous guy in a leather jacket is leaning in, cupping a hand around Dean’s face to slowly exhale smoke as Dean inhales it.]

GUY: You’ve really never thought about modeling? 

DEAN: God, no. I can’t imagine just standing around in my Calvins when there are lives to be saved. 

GUY: Well that’s a shame. 

[He looks down pointedly.] 

GUY: I’d _love_ to see that on a billboard. 

[He passes Dean the joint and kneels.] 

DEAN: Whoa, hey, I should really —

GUY: Can I? It’s just… so big… 

[Dean shrugs modestly.] 

[Sam approaches behind them with an extreme bitchface.]

SAM: Dean! What the fuck do you think you're doing? Blah blah blah. Do you want to get arrested again? Blah-de-fuckin’-blah.


	11. The Born Again Identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for this chapter: Lucifer assholery including hallucinations of blood and allusions to rape.

[It’s nighttime. Sam is staggering along a set of railroad tracks, Lucifer trailing behind him in the form of Jess, as she looked the night she died, bleeding from the stomach.]

HALLUCIFER: Do you really think you can run away? I’m in your head, Sam. I’m part of you. I’ll always be part of you. 

[Sam runs through a gate and along a heavily-graffitied alleyway. A woman is buying drugs from a dealer. The woman leaves and Sam staggers closer to the dealer.]

DEALER: Dude. No fuckin’ way. 

SAM: It’s okay. No one’s after me.

DEALER: Seriously, fuck off. 

SAM: Just… leave me alone.

[Sam slides down to the ground with his back against a post.]

DEALER: What the fuck did you take, anyway?

SAM: Nothing.

DEALER: Bullshit. 

HALLUCIFER: Come on, Sam. Tell the nice tweaker. You’d be sleeping by now if you could just stop thinking about all the people you’ve fucked over. 

SAM: I just need some rest.

DEALER: How many days you been up, anyway?

HALLUCIFER: Four. Oh. Wait. Scratch that. Five.

[Sam gets to his feet and starts to walk away.]

DEALER: Hey, hold up! Wait! Hold up! You want to knock out? I can knock you out.

INSIDE A CAR

[Sam and the dealer are asleep in the front seats. We hear Hallucifer’s voice.]

HALLUCIFER: Sammy! Don’t you pass out on me now, the party’s just getting started! 

[As Sam opens his eyes, we see inside the Cage, from his perspective, and Lucifer has him backed into a corner.] 

HALLUCIFER: Nowhere to run, Sammy. You’re all mine. 

[The scene strobes between real life and the Cage as Sam scrambles away.] 

HALLUCIFER: Man, we used to be so… close. Those were the days. You missed me, didn’t you? 

[Sam is running away from Hallucifer. He runs in front of a car, which hits him and sends him up onto the windshield, over the car and to the ground.]

HOSPITAL 

DEAN: He was in a car crash. Why the fuck can’t I see him?

DR KADINSKY: Sam was admitted. He was treated for a broken rib and lacerations.

DEAN: Okay. That’s not too bad. And?

DR KADINSKY: And… he’s on our locked psychiatric floor. Are you aware that Sam is experiencing a full-blown psychotic episode?

DEAN: Psychotic? Come on. I mean, it’s not like the guy’s Norman fuckin’ Bates.

DR KADINSKY: No, I’m sure he isn’t. We need to determine whether his state was brought on by the insomnia or whether the insomnia is a symptom of his condition. We’ve pumped him about as full of sedatives as we safely can. So far, he won’t go under. I’ve never seen anything like it.

SAM’S HOSPITAL ROOM

[Sam is on the bed, dressed in a white T-shirt and white hospital pants. Dean enters the room.]

DEAN: How’re you feeling? 

SAM: Maybe you should cancel my UFC fight.

[Dean sits down on the end of SAM’s bed.]

DEAN: Look, I’m sorry, I should’ve gotten you help sooner. 

SAM: What? 

DEAN: I mean, I’ve known this was coming for a long fuckin’ time. 

SAM: When you put my soul back, Cas warned us — 

DEAN: Nah, I mean a long fuckin’ time. Just… always felt too guilty to go through with it, y’know? Bobby talked me out of it more times than you can count. 

SAM: Out of — wait, what? 

DEAN: You’re fuckin’ crazy, Sam. I’ve always known you belonged in a place like this. I’m so fuckin’ tired of dealing with your shit, worrying about how you’re gonna fuck up next… this is such a relief. 

SAM: You don’t… that’s not —

DEAN: I knew it back when you started having visions, Sam. The visions, and the demon blood, and Ruby… you started the Apocalypse, for fuck’s sake! And you jumped, and I figured I was finally free, but then you come back even more fucked up. You hurt all those people, and now you have the balls to pull this pathetic shit? 

[Sam just sits there, looking hurt but not exactly surprised to hear any of it.]

DEAN: You’ve never been able to keep it together. You’ve never been strong enough. I mean, come on. I went to Hell, you don’t see me bitching about it. You’re losing your mind because you’re not strong enough to fight back, that’s all there is to it. 

[Dr Kadinsky and the real Dean appear at the door, but Sam doesn’t notice them.]

HALLUCIFER-DEAN: Sam, what’s on your hands? What the fuck is wrong with you? 

[Sam looks down. Something black is showing through the bandage on his hand; he rips it off. His blood is coming out black, and he scrubs at it frantically, reopening the cut. His veins are starting to go black. The real Dean comes through the door.] 

DEAN: Sammy! What happened? Are you — 

[Sam looks up and then looks between the real Dean and Hallucifer, who is laughing; he looks like himself again. Sam wipes away tears.] 

DEAN: What the hell just happened? Were you trying to — 

SAM: No. Fuck, no, I just… Lucifer. I saw — never mind. 

[Dean sits down and starts re-wrapping the bandage. Hallucifer takes the form of Ruby, wearing just underwear and a tank top. She’s a mess; her neck, wrists, and thighs are bruised, and her lower lip is swollen.]

DEAN: It’s full-on horror movie shit up there, huh? 

HALLUCIFER-RUBY: Man, if he only fucking knew… your memories are worse than any fucking horror movie. Your head’s a goddamn haunted house. Go on, Sammy. Tell him exactly how close you came to just giving up, after he went to hell for you. Tell him what you did to me.

[Ruby has a knife, and she starts opening shallow cuts in her own skin: her shoulders, her stomach, down her arms. She walks closer, offering her wrist to Sam, who turns away.]

SAM: It was — no. I can’t.

[Hallucifer takes his normal form again, and suddenly he’s right next to Sam, sitting too close, with his head on Sam’s shoulder. Sam flinches.]

DEAN: Lemme guess… crab-walkin’ zombie girls? Are we talkin’ more Sam Raimi or Takashi Miike? [He’s half-joking as he finishes tucking the end of the bandage in, trying to keep the mood light, but he looks anxious.]

HALLUCIFER: Tell him how you just gave up in the Cage, too. Tell him everything you let me do to you… how you just gave up. Stopped fighting. 

SAM: I can’t. 

HALLUCIFER: Probably a smart call. Nobody wants to hear that shit. 

DEAN: Sam, if I don’t find something –

SAM: Then I’ll die. Dean, we knew this was coming.

DEAN: No.

SAM: When you put my soul back…

DEAN: No.

SAM: Cas warned you about all the shit it would –

DEAN: Fuck Cas! Quit being Dalai fuckin’ Yoda about this, okay? Get pissed!

SAM: I’m too tired. Look, Dean… Lucifer used my soul as a fucking chew toy for a century. I’m not sick, I have PTSD, and there’s fuck-all we can do about it. Either I pull it together, or… or I don’t. This is all in my head. It’s all on me.


End file.
